“Good evening, ladies and gentleman,” he begins, and Campbell and I join him, rolling our eyes and chuckling under our breaths. “I’m Crandall, and these are my brothers.” He punches Campbell then me, and we simultaneously jab himback, causing him to double over and laugh into the mic, which starts screeching.
Everyone covers their ears and cringes, before breaking out in laughter. Crandall doesn’t even have to say or do anything, he’s just one of those people that radiates finesse.
The beginning of David Murphy’s “Dust on the Bottle” starts to play, and just like that—we’re kids again. Arms around each other’s shoulders, singing about Creole Williams, smiling like nothing bad has happened to us. In this heartbeat of time, it’s just the Combs brothers existing in the glow of neon lights, where the shadows of reality dissolve.
When my attention focuses back on the other people in the smoky bar, there are a handful of girls cheering us on as they dance and grind against each other, attempting to draw our attention. I have no idea if they’re succeeding with my brothers or not, but as soon as the song ends I know exactly who I want to be looking at, and it’s not anyone in this bar.
I check my phone. Still nothing from Johnnie. The euphoric feeling I had moments ago fades away when the realization of her apparent indifference sets in.
A while later,Crandall sobered up, and I ride bitch on the back of his motorcycle to the trailer park. I was like his damn backpack, and I know he’ll never let me live it down. He acts like he’s going to go home, knowing full well he’ll be sneaking into Lou’s since it’s way past Billy’s bedtime.
“See you later, thanks for the ride…I think.” I start walking to Johnnie’s door, and my annoyance and anger alleviate the second I realize Greg’s vehicle isn’t here anymore.
“Good night, sweetheart. Sleep tight, don’t let the ex-girlfriends bite…unless you’re into that.”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
I hear his chuckles over my own as I knock on the door. It’s completely dark inside but I hear footsteps immediately.
Johnnie flings the door open, hair wet, a big T-shirt hanging off one shoulder, exhaustion on her face.
“Can I come in?”
She just steps back, and I don’t waste any time crossing the threshold.
“Are you drunk? You smell like a brewery.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m sober, but I’m not exactly drunk. I was at Houdini’s with my brothers.” I toe off my boots and throw my zip-up hoodie on top of them, hands finding my hips, like I need to prepare myself for whatever conversation we’re about to have.
“Did your fiancé leave?”
She sighs and crosses her arms over her chest as though she’s in need of a sudden barrier between us, and I immediately hate it.
“Ex-fiancé. And I’m sorry, Collins. I had no idea he would show up here. I shouldn’t have let you just leave like you did, but I think my brain couldn’t compute what the right thing to do in that situation was. It’s been such a crazy day. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced so many emotions in a twenty-four-hour span before. It’s exhausting.” She reaches up, gathering her hair on top of her head and securing it with the hair tie on her wrist.
I can’t help my eyes darting to the sliver of silky pale blue underwear that is now visible with the rise of her arms, lit only by the glow of the porch light sneaking in through the narrow door window. She notices where my eyes went and shyly pulls on the hem of her shirt.
“I’ve seen a lot more than that, you know.” The words are out of my mouth so fast, regret slamming into me the instant Isee the look on Johnnie’s face. “I’m sorry, I should stop talking, the tequila has a mind of its own.” I reach up and take her chin between my thumb and finger.
She smiles slightly and looks up into my eyes. “I was about to go to bed. Can you stay with me? We can talk tomorrow. I just want to go to sleep.”
Those words are literal music to my ears.
“Of course, come on.” I grab her hand and walk to the bedroom, stripping my jeans and T-shirt off, leaving only my boxers and climbing into bed. She follows me, and we, once again, melt into each other like there’s nowhere else either one of us could possibly belong.
Intoxicated on Johnnie along with the alcohol, I’m asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.
When I wake up in a haze in the middle of the night, I’m not sure if I’m dreaming or if it’s reality when I hear her murmur something about not wanting to go back to Texas.
CHAPTER 28
collins
THEN
Any buzzfrom the beers we consumed earlier has worn off, and we’re tucked under blankets in the bed of the truck. The fire is dying down but still glows orange, rivaling the moon. It makes for a more than perfect ambiance. Johnnie’s head rests in the crook of my shoulder, my hand running up and down her arm as we stare up at the stars.
“You were right. This is much better than a tent.”
